


Leading Line

by nihilegi



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: 5+1, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilegi/pseuds/nihilegi
Summary: If Katy had to pinpoint exactly when it started, she wouldn’t be able to. Hell, she wasn’t sure she’d have noticed at all if it wasn’t for Reilly and Jonesy. To be fair – to befairrr– they were the kings of homosocial interaction, so she supposed it would make since for them to pick up on it before she did. Didn’t mean she had to like it.





	Leading Line

– I –

If Katy had to pinpoint exactly when it started, she wouldn’t be able to. Hell, she wasn’t sure she’d have noticed at all if it wasn’t for Reilly and Jonesy. To be fair – to be _fairrr_ – they were the kings of homosocial interaction, so she supposed it would make since for them to pick up on it before she did. Didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Huh,” Reilly said under his breath as he parked his Jeep at the edge of the property.

“Huh,” Jonesy echoed in an affirmative sort of way. Katy waited for them to elaborate, but instead they just spit into the empty Gatorade bottles they perpetually had in hand and turned to her.

“Bye, Katy Kat.”

“Catch you later, snipe!”

They leaned towards the backseat, and normally she would’ve moved closer to allow them to kiss her on both cheeks, but this time she stayed put. She crossed her arms.

“What was that?”

“What was… what?” Reilly asked.

“Oh, ‘Katy Kat?’ Just thought it was a cool play on your name. Get it? Like Katy, your first name, and then… Kat,” Jonesy said, rambling in the way he always did when he was being purposely inept. She didn’t answer either of them, keeping her arms crossed with a disapproving eyebrow cocked.

When they realized she wasn’t going to leave, they turned to each other and had a whole conversation with their facial expressions. It was their own little language that Katy still couldn’t decipher, no matter how long she’d known them. Jonesy ticked an eyebrow up and Reilly responded in turn by pulling the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth and gesturing towards the produce stand with a tiny jerk of his head.

“Well, we just noticed Daryl’s switched seats with Squirrelly Dan, ‘s all,” Jonesy finally said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Probably no big deal. Sometimes you just need a change in scenery, ferda,” Reilly added sagely.

“ _Ferda_ ,” Jonesy echoed in a muted falsetto.

But Katy knew it was a big deal. Hell, even _Reilly and Jonesy_ picked up on it. For all the time they’d known each other, they’d dropped Katy off at the end of the driveway, Wayne had yelled some snide remark, Darry had laughed stupidly, and they’d driven off.

Wayne liked tradition. He didn’t fuck with tradition, no matter how much he may want to. (Their yearly Super Hard Easter celebration comes to mind.) And yet… there he was, there Darry was, in Dan’s seat, and there was Dan, in Daryl’s usual seat. It didn’t seem like something Wayne would tolerate for even a second.

“Huh,” Katy said, finally leaning forward and allowing her boys to kiss her on either cheek before she hopped out of the Jeep. They drove away chattering over their too-loud rap music, having already forgotten the drama of minutes prior. To further Katy’s confusion, Wayne and Darry didn’t yell a single disparaging thing to Reilly and Jonesy as they sped away.

“What the fuck is this?” She asked, motioning between Darry and Squirrelly Dan.

“‘S Darry, Katy. Don’t be fuckin’ rude,” Wayne said around his cigarette.

Katy didn’t like to be forced to this point – the point where she found herself treating her brother like she treated Reilly and Jonesy when they tested her – but apparently every man in her life was determined to be difficult that day. She quickly decided that after this whole mess was settled, she’d go to MoDean’s with Bonnie to get a much-needed break from their testosterone. As if he sensed her frustration, Wayne finally gave in.

“Well, you see,” he started, motioning towards a lone bottle sitting on the edge of the produce stand, “there was only one Puppers left in the fridge, and I said to myself, ‘if I can call dibs on that bottle before Darry, it’s mine.’”

“But,” Darry interrupted, holding up a finger, “I had just about the same thought at just about the same time, so I found myself saying ‘dibs’ at the same moment as Wayne, here.”

“And this is where the going gets good. So I say, ‘okay, Darry. Darry, okay,’ and I offer to pour half of the bottle in a glass so we can split it.”

“That was my ideas,” Dan chimed in, holding up an indignant finger. Wayne gestured towards him, giving credit where credit was due.

“Regardless,” Darry said, “at that point, Wayne and I figured it wouldn’t exactly be fair to pour half in a glass, because how could we see if the halves were equal?”

“Nearly impossibles if one half is stills in the bottle,” Dan said. Wayne nodded.

“So we decided to pour, and you’re going to want to wait for this, Katy...” Wayne paused, taking a drag from his cigarette. “We decided to pour both halves of the Puppers in two different glasses.”

“Buts only one pints glass was clean,” Dan exclaimed, slamming his fist onto the arm of his chair in righteous anger. Darry and Wayne nodded stoically.

“Therefore, Wayne and I decided to just share the bottle. He takes a sip, I take a sip, he takes a sip, and then we keep doin’ that ‘til she’s done.” Daryl completed their torrid tale with a flourish.

“‘S only fair,” Wayne said.

“‘S only fairs,” Dan echoed. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Katy said. “You two are sitting next to each other because you have to share the same bottle of Puppers because you both dibs-ed it and weren’t willing to risk splitting it unevenly?”

“Co-rrect,” Darry said.

“And, instead of using any other type of glass in the house, you decided that since there was only one clean _pint_ glass, youse had to drink it straight from the bottle?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wayne said.

“This is so dumb.” With that, Katy marched towards the front porch, shaking her head at the ground.

This situation was… weird. Her brother and Darry were weird. Her brain registered this whole damn thing as something pointedly weird, but deep down, she didn’t feel like it was. When had that happened? Last year at this time, it certainly would’ve been weird. Men were like that – willing to make a far bigger deal over innocently swapping spit in a beer bottle than women were.

If it had been Wayne and Squirrelly Dan, Katy reasoned, it would’ve been significantly strange. Dan and Daryl? Utterly unthinkable. But Wayne and Daryl, passing that Puppers between them without a second thought… that was somehow normal.

Which, therefore, made it strange.

Her head hurt, and she fired off a quick text to Bonnie before she could dwell on it anymore. Some things, her daddy had always said, are just not worth thinking about.

– II –

After that, Katy started to pay attention. Heaven forbid she ever be caught in another situation where _Reilly and Jonesy_ picked up on something unusual before she did. She knew her brother. She knew him better than anyone, possibly, and she spoke his language. All his nonverbal cues, from the subtle furrowing of his brows to the rigid way he moved. All mannerisms he’d picked up from their father when he was little. Mannerisms that manifested tenfold after their parents died, despite Wayne not having a role model to emulate anymore.

And Katy understood that. She was their mother, in a lot of ways. Sharp-tongued and aggressively independent, but as loyal as a fuckin’ Labrador when it came down to it. Mama was a city girl – never really adopting all the lingo their father used, and Katy hadn’t either. Hadn’t really had time to, she supposed. She was young when their parents died, only sixteen, but she still thought about her mama often.

One day Mama and Daddy had driven up into town and just hadn’t ever come back. Run off the road by some degens from up North and pronounced dead at the scene. Wayne was eighteen, so the farm immediately fell to him. All the responsibility, all the property to manage was on his back. All-of-a-sudden-like. He carried the weight of the world, and he did it without a single complaint.

The night afterwards had been so terrible that Katy tried to block it from her memory, but it remained, staining every good memory she had of Mama and Daddy, too.

She and Wayne had stayed in his bed all night, the entire length of their backs pressed together. They’d stared in silence at opposite walls of the room, and every now and then Katy’s body would shake with silent sobs. More rarely, Wayne’s would. It was a long, terrible and sleepless night.

The next morning, they’d plodded downstairs – Wayne, fully dressed; Katy, still in her PJs and wrapped in a blanket. Expecting a dark, empty kitchen, they were more than surprised to see Darry there, cooking (and burning) bacon on the gas stovetop. Neither she nor Wayne spoke a word, just sitting down in their respective places at the table and avoiding looking directly at their parents’ empty chairs.

“Made pancakes,” Darry said, and his hair was shaggy and long back then. He kind of looked like a mop, Katy had mused in the weeks leading up to the worst day of her life. In that moment, though, he was radiant. The only ray of sunshine in their world.

“Why?” Wayne asked, his voice husky and low. It was obvious he’d been crying, but no one called him on it. Regardless, he cleared his throat and glared at the floor.

“‘Cause it’s what youse did for me when my mama died,” Darry said softly, looking at Wayne through his lashes. Darry was Katy’s age, only sixteen, but he’d experienced so much loss. He’d felt enough grief to understand it, to understand how utterly isolating it could be.

Right then, he looked sheepish. Almost like he expected to get yelled at. No one yelled, though, and Darry sat down next to Wayne in what had been Mama’s seat, right up until that moment. Katy and Wayne ate the pancakes they weren’t hungry for, and Darry ate a cup of yoghurt. Time passed, and all three of them turned out mostly okay.

Their breakfast ritual remained, though. Darry would come over, bright and early every single morning, and eat a cup of yoghurt like he was a dying man and the only cure was Mixed Berry Yoplait. He and Wayne would sit there in a companionable, manly silence before Dan arrived and they all began chorin’ for the day.

So, all that to say this: Darry had been a staple in their lives for an unthinkably long time, and he really liked yoghurt for some goddamn reason. He also bought it for himself, because contrary to what some people in town thought, Wayne actually paid him a living wage for his work and Darry didn’t just help out on the farm because he had nothing better to do. (Well, most of the time he didn’t.)

Katy was sitting at the table, still pondering the Great Puppers Caper from the day before, when Wayne got home from the store. She’d been buggin’ him to go for a week now and, God bless him, he’d finally obliged. She’d usually do it herself, but the owner of the grocery fucking hated her for _some_ reason… that reason being that his religious daughter had “given up on God and moved to the big city” after a night with Katy. (Not her fault she had magic fingers.)

“Thanks, big brother,” Katy said, jumping up to help him put away the groceries.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne said, waving her off. She smiled.

Everything she’d put on the list had somehow made it back to the house, which absolutely would _not_ have happened if she’d sent Reilly and Jonesy. She’d made that mistake before, but only once. Hell, Wayne even got the right brand of laundry detergent, which he abruptly turned to place in the laundry room. Katy looked after him fondly before her eyes drifted down to the last unpacked bag on the counter. It contained nothing but yoghurt.

“What’s this?” Katy asked, and this is where things got _weird_ again, because Wayne immediately flushed an uncharacteristic bright red color and hurriedly started putting the little plastic cups in the fridge.

“Just yoghurt. For Darry. Thought it was probably stupid for him to have to walk over here and bring his own when we could just have it here for ‘im.”

There was one of two ways Katy could’ve reacted to that. She could’ve asked him why he was being so awkward about a friendly gesture towards someone they’d both known most of their lives, or she could’ve let it go. It was clear which option he was hoping for, and since he _had_ gone to the store for her, she obliged.

“That’s fine. Just curious,” she said, turning to leave the house. Reilly and Jonesy were going to be there soon, anyway. She could’ve sworn she heard her brother exhale in relief when she dropped the subject.

“By the way, that’s a lot of fuckin’ yoghurt. He’d basically have to move in to eat all of that before it goes bad. Just something to consider.”

Thankfully, the door hadn’t closed fully before Wayne made a strangled noise in his throat that Katy had never heard before. She smiled to herself.

– III –

They’d lived in the farmhouse for her entire-goddamn-life, and yet Katy still wasn’t used to how the window panes rattled during thunderstorms. Wayne had looked at them a thousand times, both before and after their parents died, in an attempt to reassure her they were safe. _No, Katy, the windows aren’t fixin’ to blow in. Come on, now._ He always rolled his eyes in a put-upon kinda way, but he also always checked them for her when she asked.

This storm in particular was a loud one. The wind was blowing so fast outside that it sounded like a hiss, whipping the grass to and fro. Katy sighed and sunk down lower into the bed.

“Scared, Katy Kat?” Darry giggled, right as a hailstone hit the window. It made both of them jump about a foot in the air and look at each other with wide eyes.

“Oh, come _off_ it,” Katy snapped, once she’d gathered her wits about her. Daryl had the good graces to stay quiet after that.

With the storm raging righteously outside, Katy had insisted she and Darry return to the project they’d been working on for the better part of a year – sorting Aunt Marian’s old book collection into what they’d keep and what they’d end up donating. Katy’d gotten tasked with this because she “had an eye for things of value,” according to her brother. (This was complete bullshit, by the way. He only said that because he didn’t want to be stuck doing it.)

On the other hand, Darry was doing it because most of the books left behind were legally his. Aunt Marian had always loved Darry like a son and she took him under her wing after his mom died. For the last eight years of her life, she’d had him by her side, lending him books from her extensive collection and buying books he’d mentioned he wanted.

(“Not like anyone else in this family fuckin’ reads,” she’d told Darry under her breath one day while the two of them read on the couch. Katy and Wayne had been busy trying to chase a particularly bold raccoon out of the house, yellin’ and hollerin’ and the like, so her critique was not appreciated at that time.)

She hadn’t exactly left Wayne and Katy hangin’ out to dry, though. Her life savings went to the farm, and a few personal items were left to her niece and nephew. The veil she wore on her wedding day went to Katy, for example. An old ring – one that’d been in the family _forever_ – went to Wayne, under the strict instruction that he give it to his sweetie when the time is right.

She was a crazy old bat, but Katy could give her credit where credit was due.

Ever since they’d taken all the books out of the storage unit a couple months back, most of the downtime Katy and Daryl had was dedicated to sortin’. They’d commandeered the guest bedroom for this purpose, spreading the dusty books out on the bed and leaning up against the headboard while they gave each book a look-through. They were on box twenty of forty-six, and even though the goin’ was slow, they were making progress.

“Hm. Autographed copy of _On The Road_ by Kerouac?” Katy asked, holding it up.

“Donate. Fuck that guy,” Darry said, sniffling a couple times before finally surrendering to a sneeze. Katy nodded, placing the book in the “donate, fuck that guy” pile.

Unfortunately for them both, they’d been forced to spend a lot of time together in “solitary confinement,” as Darry kept puttin’ it. (“Can’t be solitarys if you’re there togethers, good buddy,” Dan had told him, but that sure hadn’t stopped Darry from repeating the joke over and over.) Fortunately, they usually both had the good sense to know when to talk and when to just shut the fuck up.

Katy was normally in the “shut the fuck up” party, but with the storm roaring outside, she was a little more open to hearing Darry ramble.

“Miss her, sometimes. She was a good lady,” he mused, weighing one of her dictionaries in his hand.

“Yeah, well, she _liked_ you,” Katy said, a little bitterly.

Daryl shrugged a shoulder. “She liked you too, on occasion. When you and Wayne stopped wrassling for a moment and sat still.”

“Not fair, shouldn’t have a double standard for girls and boys,” Katy snapped, and Darry just laughed, placing the dictionary in the “keep, I guess” stack.

“She didn’t give a fuck that you were a girl, she just wanted you to shut the hell up.”

“Can confirm,” Katy said under her breath. She always hated having to stay inside with her aunt while Dan and Wayne played in the fields behind the house, but after Darry started coming around more often, she was released into the wild with the boys.

Whenever Aunt Marian would visit, she and Daryl would stay inside to do soft things like drink tea and _chat_. Years later, Darry still made the trek every week to put some scraggly flowers he picked on her headstone.

It was one of the things about Daryl that Katy disliked the least.

“Hey, Darry,” she said, and he hummed in reply. “Is Wayne acting… different?”

He sat back against the headboard and furrowed his brows, appearing to really think it through before answering.

“Nope, I don’t think he is. Why?”

Before she could answer – and she’s not even sure how she was planning on describing the perceived difference in Wayne’s behavior – her brother appeared at the door of the guest bedroom, soaking wet and wearin’ a scowl.

“Glad you two were having a good ‘n soft time in here while Squirrelly Dan and I finished chorin’ for the day,” he said, voice edging on annoyed. Darry leaned over to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to Katy and quickly leapt to his feet.

“Fuck, Wayne, I’m sorry. Time got away from me. Anything left I can do?” And the way Darry sounded, so fuckin’ eager to please, made any trace of irritation melt from Wayne’s features instantly. (Not that he was that irritated to begin with.)

“Nah, big shooter, don’t worry about it,” he said, voice softer than Katy’d ever heard it. Darry still looked crestfallen that he’d shirked his duties, but he sat back down.

“Much progress today?” Wayne asked, clearing his throat.

“Not too much. It’s slow goin’, but we’re goin’ all the same,” Darry replied. “This is our keepers pile.”

Wayne let out a low whistle at the formidable stack, and honestly, that was fair. A majority of the books they’d gone through, Darry wanted to keep. Really the only ones disqualified were the ones by authors he hated “on principle,” and children’s books. (Katy had tried to convince him to keep some of the children’s books for when he had his own someday, but he’d just wrinkled his nose. “Can’t risk another Samuel, Katy Kat.”)

“Gonna have to build a new bookshelf, _Darry_ ,” Wayne said in his most exasperated tone, which was still pretty indistinguishable from his normal speaking voice.

“We can get after it this summer. I’ll help you,” Darry replied, and Wayne grumbled to himself about how they’d have to completely rearrange the furniture in the living room. Not once did either of them propose building a bookshelf for Darry’s trailer on the edge of the property.

“I’m probably about done in for the night, boys. Daryl, shall we reconvene on the morrow?” Katy asked, standing up and stretching. Her shoulder popped loudly and both Wayne and Darry looked rather impressed.

“Sure, I should probably get goin’ anyways,” Darry said, standing up as well.

“Well now no, no need to get goin’, it’s raining something fierce out there,” Wayne said, his voice getting all high-pitched like it did when someone thanked him for a gift. “Just stay in the guest room for tonight. If you can make some space on the bed, that is.”

Wayne was looking pointedly at the library spread out on top of the covers, but Darry was staring at him with an expression Katy’d never seen on his face before and never really wanted to see again.

“Could I borrow some clothes, then? Don’t want to spend the night in my barn clothes.”

“Only if you shower first. That’s fuckin’ gross, bud.” Wayne’s eyes traveled from the books on the bed to Darry’s flushed face. They held each other’s gaze for a little too long.

“ _Well_ ,” Katy said, and both of them spun to look at her like they’d forgotten she was in the room. “I’m going to bed. It’ll take a while to clear those books off, so you better get after it. Pitter patter, boys.”

After she shut the door to her bedroom across the hall, she decidedly didn’t hear the sound of Wayne and Darry moving all the books off the bed. Instead, someone softly shut the door to the guest bedroom and two sets of footsteps moved stealthily towards Wayne’s room. Katy rolled her eyes at herself in her mirror, methodically taking her make-up off with a wipe.

No fuckin’ wonder Darry hadn’t noticed anything “weird” about Wayne’s behavior.

– IV –

What started as a great day for hay quickly spiraled into one of the most involved brawls in Letterkenny history. It all came to a head in MoDean’s, because of course it did.

Katy and the boys were there, unwinding after the mad dash to harvest the last of the hay before the fields frosted over that night. They’d cut it a little close for Wayne’s comfort, but they’d accomplished the harvest nonetheless.

The hockey players were there too, riding the high after a close game. To be entirely honest, Katy wasn’t sure if they’d won or lost. The way Reilly and Jonesy were pounding back brewskis implied that they may not remember the outcome of the game, either.

The skids were there as well, sitting in the corner. Roald and Stewart had their heads bowed together, discussing something that was certainly stupid with their characteristic intensity.

To tie it all together, Joint Boy, Tyson and the McMurrays walked in a few minutes after they’d all arrived, and Glen, Gail, and Bonnie were keeping things running behind the bar. Really, it was the perfect combination of people for a brawl. Katy was surprised it took so long to begin.

What happened was this: Wayne and Darry were sitting next to each other on their bar stools, boots resting on the long pipe that served as a footrest beneath the bar. One drink turned into two which, of course, turned into three. (“You know, binge drinking’s a form of alcoholism,” Glen said with a practiced pout when he refilled their glasses.)

As the night progressed, Wayne and Darry’s feet got closer and closer on that footrest until they were just barely touching. So small a gesture that Katy wouldn’t have noticed if pure, unadulterated chaos hadn’t ensued as a result.

“Hey, sallies,” someone yelled from the other side of the bar, and Wayne stiffened immediately, almost imperceptibly inching away from Darry.

“Don’t pay them any minds, good buddys,” Squirrelly Dan said from the other side of Katy, probably assuming they were talking to someone else. Wayne nodded jerkily.

Unfortunately, the degens across the bar didn’t know when to shut the fuck up, because they certainly didn’t leave the matter alone. The next time they broached the topic, they were standing right behind Wayne and Darry in a huddled mass, too stupid to even flank them.

“Did youse not hear me? I’m talkin’ to you, fags,” one of the degens said. Darry sighed, finally turning to address the lot.

“You know, Squirrelly Dan’s Professor Tricia says that kind of language comes from an unhappiness within yourself,” he said sagely, and the head degen turned to look at the others. When it became clear that none of them could decipher what Darry had just said, he turned back around and promptly shoved Darry off his stool. Three things happened, then: Darry’s head hit the bar, Darry’s body hit the ground, and Wayne was singlehandedly herding the mass of degens out of the building before Gail even had to force him to.

This finally captured the attention of the others in the bar, who had no idea how the fight had started, but wanted a piece of it regardless. Reilly and Jonesy, drunk beyond the point of usefulness, stood up and had their shirts off before Katy could even tell them to knock it off.

“Let’s have a tilly, buddy!” Reilly started, but Mrs. McMurray interrupted before Jonesy could reply.

“I’d be down for a donnybrook, right as soon as I finish this-cocksucking-G&T…” Her words slurred together at the end, but her intent was clear. Reilly and Jonesy nodded in admiration before exiting the bar along with half of its patrons, all eager to see what Wayne was dishing out in the parking lot.

“Dan, you stay with Darry,” Katy commanded, and Squirrelly Dan nodded once before kneeling next to Daryl’s unconscious form.

Katy shoved her way through the torrent of people heading for the parking lot and ended up at the front of the crowd where the hockey players, JB, Tyson, and McMurray were all waiting to get in on the action if Wayne called them. She arrived just in time to see the degen pull something dirty and shove Wayne to the ground like a child. It seemed to be his go-to move.

Obviously not expecting it, Wayne stumbled backwards before he fell, his ankle twisting in a nauseating way. He was back on his feet before Katy could really even think about it, only favoring his left leg slightly. From there, the takedown was pretty cut-and-dry. The degen wasn’t able to get a good hit in, because even with a limp, Wayne could outmaneuver him.

With a loud crack, Wayne broke the degen’s nose, and he went down hard. Taking that as an invitation, the others entered the brawl full-force.

All except for Reilly and Jonesy who looked at Wayne, and then at the brawl, and then back to Wayne. With a heavy sign, they braced his arms over their shoulders and walked him back into the bar. Katy trailed behind, shocked that they had the presence of mind to recognize her brother couldn’t walk on his left foot at all. She hadn’t even noticed how bad that fall had been.

The scene inside was a somber one, considering most of the rowdier patrons were beating the shit out of each other outside. Despite Mrs. McMurray’s earlier threats to get involved in the action, she was sitting on the floor, sipping a G&T with Daryl’s head in her lap. Stewart was hovering in that menacing way of his, but Roald was on the ground as well, having an intense-looking conversation with Squirrelly Dan. Glen and Gail were leaning over the bar so far that they may as well just have walked around it, and Bonnie was hovering near the landline.

“Should I call an ambulance, Wayne?” She asked tentatively, and he shook his head, allowing Reilly and Jonesy to deposit him gently into a chair. All three of them avoided eye-contact after the fact, and Katy knew they’d never speak of this night again.

“Don’t fuckin’ bother, he’s conscious, isn’t he?” Mrs. McMurray slurred, holding her empty glass up so suddenly that she nearly hit Glen in the head. He frowned, sighing dramatically before accepting it.

“What the fuck was that about, buddy? Brawls don’t come from out of nowhere,” Jonesy said, crossing his arms over his still-bare chest.

“Usually, ferda,” Reilly chimed in, and Jonesy nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s not my fucking business, but I heard what he said before he shoved Daryl,” Roald chimed in, turning away from his conversation with Squirrelly Dan.

“What? What did he say? _What_ did he _say_?” Stewart chorused, his voice unbearably slimy. For once, Roald didn’t give him the time of day. Katy realized she’d had about enough of this.

“Dan, help Darry out to the truck. He’s probably concussed.”

“Definitely concussed,” Darry groaned, and Wayne’s gaze snapped to him. Ever so carefully, Dan helped Daryl to his feet. Mrs. McMurray didn’t do much to assist, other than half-heartedly push him off of her.

“Reilly, Jonesy, help Wayne out to the truck, if you’d be so kind,” Katy continued, and they nodded begrudgingly. It seemed they’d also come to regret their shirtlessness.

The others watched them leave, Stewart still oscillating wildly between begging Roald to tell him what had happened and demanding the information under threat of death. Every degen they passed seemed to see how Reilly and Jonesy were practically vibrating out of their skin, itchin’ for a fight, so they left their little group alone.

The ride home was solemn, Katy behind the wheel and Darry resting his head on her shoulder. She didn’t have it in her to push him off.

“What was the skid sayin’, Dan?” Wayne asked from the backseat, and Squirrelly Dan sighed.

“Just… something Professor Tricia’s talked abouts before. Gays bashing, is what he called it. Said that particular group of degens is knowns for it. Gailer said theys wouldn’t be ‘invited back into the bar,’ which I believes means she’s going to sic Bradleys on them if they even try.”

“ _Love_ Bradley,” Katy said absent-mindedly. The boys chorused in agreement – even Darry, whose response was just a little delayed.

“What I don’t understands is why this would be gays bashing. It’s not like Darry is—” Dan started, but Wayne interrupted.

“It’s _almost_ …” he paused for emphasis, taking a long drag from his cigarette, “not worth talkin’ about.”

There was a beat of silence.

“ _Oh_ ,” said Squirrelly Dan in realization, before politely falling silent and staring out the window until Katy pulled up to his driveway.

– V –

After the brawl of the century at MoDean’s, both Wayne and Darry were out of commission for a couple of weeks. Wayne, because his sprained ankle caused his entire foot to turn a nauseating purple color and Darry, because his mild concussion left him incapable of working out in the ruthlessly bright sunlight all day. They were both assigned bedrest for their respective ailments, so Wayne brought on Joint Boy and Tyson to help Squirrelly Dan and Katy with the workload. He was none too pleased about it, though.

“Just _seems_ like, what with modern technology and all, it’d be better by now,” he grumbled one day while sitting at the breakfast table. Despite the fact that he wasn’t allowed to leave the house (Katy’s orders), he still woke up at the crack of dawn every day to eat with the gang before they went out chorin’.

“Nah, you’re gonna want to be careful with that. My sister sprained her ankle once playing softball and fucking annihilated her Achilles tendon by continuing to walk on it like nothin’ was wrong,” Tyson said, loading four tablespoons of sugar into the coffee Katy had set down in front of him.

“May want to slow down there, super chief,” Wayne replied, cocking an eyebrow at the coffee cup. Tyson ignored him gracefully. Soon after, the men went to work and Katy attempted to herd Wayne back up the stairs. It was a battle, as it always was.

“But Katyyyy,” he whined in a high-pitched tone she’d only heard a handful of times since he hit puberty.

“No. I tried to let you stay on the couch, but you kept watching the others through the window and trying to go out there to ‘show them how it’s done.’ That is not productive healing behavior,” Katy snapped, blocking the foot of the stairs with her body. Wayne threw his head back and groaned, and she wanted to laugh at how pitiful he looked.

The man refused to just walk around in his pajamas – “now that’s _hardly_ proper, Katy” – so he had on a pair of jeans with one of his typical button-up shirts. His left ankle was swollen to hell and back, so he could only wear one of his boots. It was ridiculous.

“Go get back in bed, and stop by the guest room to check on Darry. He didn’t eat breakfast, but I’m going to make him eat lunch. Let him know he has that to look forward to.”

Wayne nodded tightly before continuing the rest of the way upstairs, no further complaints uttered. Katy knew Darry was not in the guest room, and Wayne knew that Katy knew, but she was willing to let him keep the charade going. As long as it kept him upstairs and off that fuckin’ ankle, he could have half of Letterkenny in his bedroom. She didn’t give a fuck.

Wayne had been tense since Squirrelly Dan found out, though, and she didn’t blame him. The only thing worse than shackin’ up with your childhood best friend is your other childhood best friend finding out about it. Dan had the good graces to ignore it, though. He, like Katy, was waiting for Wayne to come to him about it, when everything settled down and the farm wasn’t so damn crowded.

Speaking of –

“Miss Katys, can you come show JBs where to stack the barleys?” Squirrelly Dan called, and Katy looked up at the ceiling. If there was a God, She’d grant Katy the patience to get through this week.

Lunch came, and Wayne clomped downstairs again, still pouting and fully dressed. He didn’t actively try to start something with Tyson and JB, though, so that was an improvement. At Katy’s insistence, he took a plate upstairs to Daryl.

Then dinner came, and neither of them showed up. The others were long gone by that point, so Katy sat at the table by herself and picked at a baked potato. She’d leave two plates on the counter, and the boys could come down to eat when they were good and ready.

That was the plan, until her phone buzzed with a call.

“Hey, big brother. Everything okay?” She asked absent-mindedly, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she assembled two more baked potatoes in the very specific way Wayne and Daryl liked them.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. I just… well, Katy, my ankle hurts. And I can’t do the stairs right now, on account of it hurting. Could you, maybe…”

“Want me to bring you a plate up?”

“Would you mind?”

“Of course not. Anything to keep you off that fuckin’ ankle,” she replied, muttering the last part under her breath menacingly.

“And Katy?”

“What?”

“Can you bring Darry something, too?” Wayne mumbled the last part so softly that she could barely hear him. She knew that he was likely sitting and glaring at the wall, determined not to blush, but he’d be blushing anyway.

Katy wanted to crack a joke, something to ease the tension. Like, “oh, it’s about time you let him take a break. What have you two been up to all day?” Something in her brother’s tone stopped her, though.

All-of-a-sudden-like, Katy realized how hellish these past few days had been for Wayne and Darry. Their biggest secret – a secret they shouldn’t have to keep in the first place – was at the risk of being broadcasted to the entire town. She didn’t think it would be, considering the only people who knew outside of herself were Squirrelly Dan and Roald, but the pressure was still there. Looming over them.

And now the farm was overrun with strangers. Okay, fine. Joint Boy and Tyson weren’t exactly _strangers_ , but they didn’t quite belong on the farm. Her point still stood.

“Of course, big brother,” she replied, hanging up after. This was more than bringing her brother food. He could damn well get down those stairs, if he really needed to, but he was trusting her. Offering her a metaphorical olive branch, as if to say _hey, I know I’m neurotic sometimes, but you’re my sister and I’m letting you see this part of me._

Except in half as many words. This was Wayne, after all.

She walked up the stairs, a plate in either hand, and stopped in front of her brother’s closed bedroom door. For some reason, her mind unwittingly flitted back to that night, so many years ago, when their world had ended. The night she and Wayne had slept back-to-back and wondered if they could even go on.

Then, morning. Then, Darry. Morning always came in the end.

She knocked on the door softly, in case too sudden of a noise would cause Wayne to change his mind.

“Come in,” he said, his voice low as well. They were both afraid of shattering this timid balance, apparently. Katy managed to open the door with her elbow and stepped into the mostly dark room.

Lord knows why, but Wayne had invested in blackout curtains a few years back. Something about how Angie didn’t like the sun streaming into the room in the mornings, but he hadn’t touched them since she left. Now, they were mostly drawn except for a small sliver. The last traces of sunlight spilled through, painting the quilt on Wayne’s bed a soft orange color.

“How’re you now,” Wayne said, his voice low from sleep. As Katy walked further into the room, he turned to switch on the lamp next to him.

He was sitting up against the headboard, finally back in his pajamas – a white t-shirt and sweatpants. His sprained ankle was propped up on a pile of pillows at the foot of the bed, skin still stained a nauseating purple. Wayne looked younger when he was dressed down like this. Less severe.

And then there was Darry. He was curled up on his side, fast asleep despite the early evening hours. The entire length of his back was pressed to Wayne’s body, and his breaths were slow and even. Even though it wasn’t overly cold in Wayne’s room, Darry had the covers pulled up to his neck.

“Good, ‘n you?” Katy replied softly, placing the plates of food down on her brother’s nightstand.

“Oh, not so bad,” he said, looking up at her. He was doing that smile she liked best, the one where his mouth got all tight and his eyes shone. It was a smile she hadn’t seen often since Angie.

Katy was suddenly overcome, finding herself staring at the carpet.

“Youse remember that time when you, Darry, and Squirrelly Dan were all playing on the porch, next to that beehive? Mama told you not to, but you did anyway, because ‘you always know best.’” This last part, she said in a deep, gruff tone meant to imitate their late father.

“Yes,” Wayne responded, nodding smartly.

“Well, you eventually hit it with a rock. Don’t know if it was on accident or on purpose, but it fell regardless. Cracked open right on Darry’s head and knocked him right out. Well, then I was cryin’ and Dan was panicking because there were bees everywhere, but you just calmly walked over to Darry, picked him up, and walked away from the chaos.”

“Got so many bee stings that day. We were scrapin’ out stingers for a week after that,” he mused. Katy nodded, wrinkling her nose. That had been harrowing.

“And then we had to end up shavin’ half of Daryl’s head, because that honey was _not_ washing out. And all the kids at school were so impressed with him because it looked like he’d gotten in a fight.”

“He never was a fighter,” Wayne said. “They were shocked more than anything, probably.”

“But Darry never hesitated to tell people what’d really happened. ‘Lost a fight with a beehive,’ he always said, and after that he wasn’t the center of attention anymore. All that street cred, gained and lost in a day.” Katy smirked upon finishing the story, her eyes drifting from the floor to her brother’s face.

“Was funny while it lasted, though,” Wayne said, and Katy nodded. “Any particular reason you’re bringin’ this up now? We got a bee problem you haven’t told me about?”

Katy hesitated then, watching as Darry shifted in his sleep. The quilt slipped further down, briefly revealing one of his freckled shoulders, but Wayne attentively pulled it back in place. He didn’t move his hand afterwards, leaving it as a warm weight on Darry’s back.

“No,” Katy said hesitantly.

“Well then what is it? Pitter patter, Katy.” She took a breath, turning towards the door.

“That was something youse should’ve lied about. You could’ve made up a cool story – said you got jumped by degens or somethin’. The other kids woulda believed you. Would’ve thought you were so fucking cool.”

“And you as well, by association,” Wayne said. Katy rolled her eyes.

“What I’m saying is this – you didn’t lie about that, even though it was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Why lie about this?”

Her eyes drifted towards Darry again, right as he turned over and threw an arm over Wayne’s waist, burrowing closer into her brother’s side.

Katy left, then, knowing that Wayne wouldn’t think it proper for her to see such a thing. She closed the door softly behind her and walked back downstairs, feeling lighter.

– VI –

“Katy!” Daryl said suddenly, startling her to the point that she sloshed her beer all over her shirt.

“Christ, Darry, _what_?”

Katy was about at her wit's end with him. It’d been a couple weeks since the MoDean’s brawl and he was finally back on his feet, but he was also so inexplicably chipper. It wouldn’t be that annoying, except that his spells of enthusiasm usually resulted in Katy spilling beer all over herself.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, smiling dopily. She rolled her eyes and got back to searching through the barn’s loft for the Phillips-head screwdriver she knew she’d left up there. Per usual, Darry didn’t take the hint to leave. He sat down on the floor behind her like a fuckin’ puppy trying to reclaim its owner’s attention.

“ _What_ , Daryl?”

“I’m just thinkin’, this weekend’s probably the last warm weather we’re going to have for a while. We should throw a party or something, to reflect back on a good harvest or whatever.”

“Did you ask Wayne?” Katy sighed.

“He said to ask you.”

“Of course he did.”

But then Katy really thought about it. They hadn’t had a party in a while, and with the newest iteration of MoDean’s burning down, there was no place in town to get hammered in good company. It wasn’t the worst idea Daryl’s ever had.

“You know what, fine. Let’s have a fuckin’ party,” Katy said, finally locating her missing screwdriver. She held it over her head in victory and Darry clapped politely.

“How should we get the word out?” He asked as they both clamored out of the loft.

“Put it on your _fuckin_ ’ Facebook,” Katy replied, and they both traipsed back towards the house in companionable silence.

And so they threw a party. The turnout was pretty significant, which Katy had both expected and planned for. It seemed like everyone was looking for a good time after a successful harvest, and that included the non-hicks too. Stewart’s lot was there, as were her boys. (Reilly and Jonesy had been minimally involved in the planning and execution of this event, after their inability to handle the pressure of Darry’s most recent Super Soft Birthday Party.)

“Great party, Katy Kat,” Reilly slurred, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Would be a shame to leave it early,” Jonesy said, plastering himself to her other side. She’d known them long enough to tell that this was their attempt at seduction.

“No, boys. Go be horny somewhere else. I’m doing somethin’,” she said, waving them off. They looked at each other, shrugged, and shuffled off in their seasonally-inappropriate flip flops.

The night, thankfully, was warm, but the forecast showed that it’d be gettin’ cold soon enough, and this time for good. Katy was excited enough for winter – there was less chorin’, but also the boys spent more time bothering her indoors. It was a delicate balance. Hopefully she won’t have killed Squirrelly Dan by the thaw in April.

Speak of the devil…

“Miss Katys, the hockey players just accidentallys smashed the last bottle of Gus ‘n Brus out heres,” Squirrelly Dan said, and she massaged her temple with the hand that wasn’t holding her Puppers. If the music wasn’t so loud, she’d probably be able to hear the arguing that’d inevitably resulted as a result of Reilly/Jonesy’s clumsiness. As it were, she could only see Mrs. McMurray gesticulating wildly at them. It appeared her husband was holding her back from an all-out brawl.

God, Reilly and Jonesy wouldn’t stand a chance against that woman.

“Fuck, I left them unattended for one second,” Katy said. “There’s another couple bottles in the house, but keep in mind, the liquor store’s closed.”

“Noooo,” Dan groaned, and Katy nodded sympathetically. She started towards the house when Squirrelly Dan cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing her attention.

“Miss Katys, I should say… Waynes and Darry went up to the house a few minutes agos.” Dan was pointedly looking anywhere but at Katy, going so far as to stare straight up at the moon.

“So? I doubt they’re fuckin’ on the kitchen table,” Katy said, and Squirrelly Dan cringed.

“Normallys, I’d agree with you. It’s just… Darry’s reached Level Five.”

“Oh, fuck,” Katy sighed.

Daryl had five very distinct stages of inebriation. When they’d all first started drinkin’, some fifteen years ago, Katy and Squirrelly Dan had been fascinated by the behavior Darry exhibited in each stage. They’d even made a chart for it once, cataloguing how many beers and/or shots it took to reach each level.

Level One is general tipsiness, and this was the level Darry normally stayed at. It was a relatively safe level of intoxication, i.e. Darry was predictable at this level. He was also not as inspired to “get ups to hijinks,” as Dan liked to put it.

Level Two is fun-time drunk, and whether there’s music playin’ or not, Darry will be dancing. This level’s also fairly harmless, and it’s certainly one of Katy’s favorites. Mostly because of that one night that Darry had challenged the hockey players to a dance-off and won. Unfortunately, she was the only one who was able to remember it. Darry, Reilly, and Jonesy all swore it’d never happened.

Level Three is where it gets good, because Level Three is fightin’ drunk. One particular St. Patrick’s Day party comes to mind when Katy thinks about this level. That was a fun night.

Level Four is the aptly named “nipple drunk” stage, and it’s _almost_ not worth thinkin’ about.

Level Five, though, was dangerous. It was the last level before full unconsciousness, and Katy’d only witnessed it in action once. They were doing the Century Club challenge at MoDean’s and Darry was down for the fuckin’ count. He didn’t collapse or throw up, though. No, he just got all quiet, starin’ at Wayne with this stupid, dopey expression on his face. Like a schoolgirl with a crush on the teacher.

He hadn’t been able to walk out to the truck after that, so Wayne had wrapped an arm around him – his waist, not his shoulders – and carefully helped him home. The entire time, Darry was just staring at him, face flushed under his freckles.

And then the world stopped spinning for a second. The party faded into the background because, God damn it all, maybe Katy _had_ seen the beginning of Wayne and Darry’s relationship. She just hadn’t put all the pieces together back then.

“You sure you knows what you’re doing?” Squirrelly Dan asked as she started towards the house again.

“Get off my dick, Dan.” He held his hands up in surrender.

Katy opened the screen door quietly, walking into the dark laundry room. Wayne and Darry were in there, alright, and fortunately they seemed mostly decent.

Darry was sitting on the kitchen counter, his knees wide. Wayne was standing in the V of his legs, and they were just holding each other. It was so ridiculously intimate that Katy felt bad to have walked in on it. Not bad enough to _leave_ , but still.

The room was so quiet that Katy could even make out the dumbass conversation Reilly and Jonesy were having outside.

(“Buddy, how many times do we need to go through this? How is it gay if we have our eyes closed and we’re both thinking about Katy?”

“Katy doesn’t have a dick, buddy.”)

From her vantage point, she could see the dopey smile on Darry’s face. His eyes were shut tight, and he kept burrowing his face in the junction between Wayne’s neck and shoulders, as if he were trying to get even closer.

“We should get back out there, Dar,” Wayne whispered all-of-a-sudden-like, and Katy jumped, not expecting the silence to be broken. Darry groaned, knotting his fingers in the material of Wayne’s flannel to keep them pressed together.

“Can’t we just stay in here? I just wanna look at you,” he whined in a soft voice that made Wayne laugh.

“Look at me out there then, big shoots. We’re being poor company.”

Wayne stepped away then, and Darry stared up at him with so much love in his eyes. One of his hands slipped down to rest in the back pocket of Wayne’s jeans, and Wayne moved his own hand to rest on top of Darry’s. Not to move it, but to hold him there.

That was plenty. Katy’d seen enough.

“Sorry, don’t mean to scare you,” Katy said by way of announcing her presence, and both Wayne and Darry leapt a foot in the air.

“Christ, Katy, are you fucking _preoccupied_?” Wayne snapped, twirling around to face her and moving to Daryl’s side, but Katy looked straight past him, her mouth agape.

Darry was still sitting on the counter and his coveralls were half-unzipped, implying that things may have been getting hot and heavy before she entered the kitchen. That’s not what drew Katy’s eye, though. She marched forward, pushing her brother out of the way, and leaned down so she was eye-level with Darry’s sternum.

“Oh, no way. Are _you_ fuckin’ preoccupied?” She said through her teeth.

There, hanging from a nondescript chain around Darry’s neck, was a ring. It was a simple gold band with a tiny emerald set into it, surrounded by delicately carved swirls. Well-polished and striking. Katy knew this ring well – it was the one Aunt Marian left to Wayne in her will.

“This is a _fucking_ engagement party,” Katy hissed, turning to face her brother.

And to be fair – to be _fairrrrrr_ – perhaps she shouldn’t have phrased it like that. She was _angry_ , though: angry at her brother, angry he hadn’t _told_ her, angry that Darry let her put this entire party together without giving the slightest indication as to what it was actually for.

Wayne didn’t confirm or deny her claim, his mouth hanging half-open like he was trying to catch flies, but Katy didn’t really need him to.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders, hugging him tightly, because she really never expected anything else from him. He wasn’t one to plan a huge public proposal, obviously. She doubted he’d even have a real wedding: she, Wayne, Darry, and Dan would probably just drive up to the courthouse one day and get ‘er done.

But, regardless.

“If you’d told me, I would’ve gotten a cake,” she said softly, and that was all it took for Wayne to hug her back.

“‘S not too late to get a cake,” Daryl muttered from his place on the counter. Katy smiled.

“‘M sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. We really were planning to after tonight,” Wayne mumbled into her hair. She nodded.

“I just don’t want you to have to hide from me. I’d… you know I’d never judge you or think less of you. You’re my big brother.”

“It’s really not even you he’s worried about,” Darry chimed in from behind them, and Katy stepped back to look at him. “It’s Letterkenny. This is something they’d never understand, really. You saw what happened at MoDean’s before it burned down.”

“‘S just not business people want a part of. Almost not worth thinking about it,” Wayne said, glaring down at the floorboards.

“I’ll tell you what I saw at MoDean’s. I saw Mrs. McMurray, drunk off her ass, holding Darry’s head in her lap until he came to while her husband waited to fight on your behalf outside. I saw Tyson and Joint Boy willing to enter the fray, even though they really had no fuckin’ clue what was happening. I saw Bonnie trying to call an ambulance for you, Darry, shifting her weight back and forth and looking nervous. I saw Reilly and Jonesy—”

“Who?” Wayne interrupted, and Katy shoved him lightly.

“They helped you limp back inside after the fight even though you insist on pretending you don’t know their names. Now, I understand that you’re a private person or whatever. I don’t get it, but I understand it. What you need to realize is that those people out there aren’t the degens from upcountry who attacked you ‘n Darry. Those are the people who _defended_ your stupid asses without even knowin’ why.”

Wayne remained quiet, but he was no longer glaring quite so harshly at the ground. The furrow between his brows had softened slightly, and his body wasn’t tensed anymore.

“You can do what you want. ‘S your life, obviously. But you could share it with people. They didn’t care with Angie. They aren’t going to care with Darry.”

With that, Katy turned to Daryl and carefully tucked the chain and the ring into the neckline of his Henley, securely zipping his coveralls over it. She patted the place where the ring sat, right next to his heart, and turned around to leave the kitchen. As an afterthought, she snagged a bottle of Gus ‘n Bru off the counter before she rejoined the group outside.

About ten minutes passed before Wayne and Darry rejoined the fray as well, and something was noticeably different about her brother’s demeanor. Before, he’d stuck by Darry, but they’d kept a respectful distance in between them. Now, he had an arm wrapped around Darry’s waist securely.

(Could’ve been because Daryl was still plastered, methodically nursing a bottle of cold water and staring up at Wayne, but Katy knew better.)

It took around ten more minutes for someone to _notice_ the change in Wayne.

“Hey, what’s all that about?” Joint Boy said, motioning to Wayne and Darry with the mouth of his beer bottle. Katy noticed with a surge of pride that Darry’s coveralls were tied around his waist, the ring was hanging proudly on top of his shirt. Not to sound like a fuckin’ romance novel, but it seemed to catch the light whenever he moved.

Wayne opened his mouth to speak, and Katy clenched her jaw in anticipation, but before he could say anything, McMurray jumped into the conversation.

“Wayne! How’re you now?”

“Good, ‘n you?”

“Just wanted to say—”

“—McMurray, please—”

“—this is your life, and you have every right to live it—”

“McMurray—”

“—and if you want to participate in this lifestyle—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“—it’s up to you, but I on the other hand—”

“ _McMurray_ —”

“—am _not_ gay—”

“McMurray!” Wayne shouted, and McMurray fell silent finally. He mimed zipping his lips, but it came a little late. Everyone’s attentions were already focused on Wayne and Darry and, more than that, the way Wayne was still holding Darry to him. One beat of silence passed. Two.

“We’re getting married,” Darry said, and Joint Boy nodded as if the conversation with McMurray hadn’t even happened.

“‘Bout time Wayne makes an honest man of you,” he said. Darry smiled and Wayne sputtered uncomfortably.

“Thank Christ for that, because you’re a close friend of mine, Wayne. Might even say my closest friend, but that’s all. I’m straight, you see, and while you’re free to do what you want, I just can’t be a part of that. But you’re a good friend, and I’d go so far as to say I care about you, but not in a sexual way. I’m sorry, but we can only ever be friends. Because I’m straight, and you’re clearly not,” McMurray rambled incoherently, and Wayne’s face flushed red to the tips of his ears.

“McMurray!” Darry snapped.

“Yes?”

“He’s marrying me. I promise he won’t come after you.” Darry extended his hand, and McMurray was quick to take it in a firm handshake.

“I’ll hold you to that, big shooter,” McMurray said seriously.

Wayne still looked like he wanted to die, but underneath it all there was a smile threatening to overtake him. He had an arm wrapped around his sweetie and the world was continuing to turn. Glen would inevitably bitch about how Wayne hadn’t chosen him to be his gay awakening, and McMurray would inevitably bitch that he and Wayne were “better off as just friends,” but this was to be expected.

It was a good night and, all-in-all, one of Letterkenny’s better parties. No brawls to speak of, unless you count the scuffle Jonesy and Mrs. McMurray got into over the last Puppers. Katy certainly considered it a brawl, but considering how fast Jonesy went down, she understood the confusion on the matter.

Around three in the morning, the last of the partygoers trickled off. Reilly and Jonesy kissed Katy on either cheek like they always did before hopping in the Jeep and pulling out of the laneway. She stood in front of the house, plastic trash bag in hand, and watched them go until the car disappeared in the night.

Something soft was playing on the radio at that point – nothing she was familiar with. It was probably one of Bonnie’s songs, since she was the last to claim the AUX chord. The lyrics were heavy and weighted, thrumming along with the bass. Katy swayed side to side as she started gathering up empty beer bottles.

“I can help you with that, Miss Katys,” Squirrelly Dan slurred, coming around the corner of the house. He looked a little worse for wear, with one strap of his overalls unfastened.

“I think I’m good here, Dan. Why don’t you go lie down on the couch?” Katy prompted, and he nodded to himself.

“Good idea… will you wake me up in an hour? Don’t wants to impose…”

“Of course, Squirrelly Dan,” Katy lied, watching fondly as he stumbled up the porch steps and walked inside.

The song was still playing as she began to clean over by the firepit, where Wayne and Darry were sitting in chairs they’d dragged over from the produce stand. Her brother was staring at the fire, the flames and the shadows twisting his face into so many different expressions that Katy couldn’t tell what was real.

Daryl, on the other hand, was finally asleep. He was slumped in his chair, snoring softly.

“He always snore like that?” Katy asked.

“Only when he falls asleep sitting up like that,” Wayne grumbled, drinking from Darry’s mostly empty water bottle.

“Hm,” Katy said, loitering by her brother until he finished the water bottle and passed it to her. She dropped it into the bag with the rest of the trash.

“Can I just say—” Wayne started all of a sudden, before appearing to rethink his words. He shook his head and sunk a little further into his chair. Katy waited by his side, wordlessly. The fire crackled and the song playin’ on the radio crooned in the distance.

“Can I just say I don’t want a big wedding or anything like that. It’s not just a Darry thing, either. Just never wanted a big wedding, no matter who I was marrying.”

“Why’d you propose in the first place?” Katy asked, and Wayne scoffed.

“Well, he kept hintin’ at it first of all. Has been for months. Said it was a paperwork thing more than anything, but I knew he fuckin’ wanted that ring. And you know what, Katy? I wanted to give it to him. When we were both out of commission a coupla weeks ago, I never once got sick of him always bein’ in that bed with me.”

Wayne paused, staring at the dying fire a little harder, before finding it in himself to continue.

“And I remember that time he got beaned in the head with the beehive, too. I remember carrying him out to the yard and putting him down so softly, ‘cause he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet and he was the shortest fuckin’ kid in your grade. I remember how much I wanted to protect him from his own dumb self. And you know what, Katy? When he’s sleeping like this I still see that same fuckin’ kid. The runt I learned to fight for, because I kept having to defend him from the bigger kids.”

“Only difference is you love him, now. You didn’t like him so much when you two first met,” Katy said, smiling softly at the memory.

“Nah,” Wayne replied. “I’d go so far as to say I loved him then, too.”

And then the song came to a gradual end. Darry sprung back into the land of the living like a man possessed, eyes darting back and forth like he didn’t know where he was. Without even looking at him, Wayne reached over and took Darry’s hand, squeezing it in his own. Katy put the trash bag on the ground and sat down next to it, sitting in a companionable silence with her brother and his fiancé. 

And the fire was burning low, but it was still burning.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Wayne is fucking impossible. I hope he's not unbearably ooc. 
> 
> [my tumblr](http://www.acwrite.tumblr.com)
> 
> Here's the song I imagined playing during that last scene. It seems like a song Bonnie would know -- https://soundcloud.com/delicatecriminal/without-you-spooky-black


End file.
